Page 121 of Cuffed (Everyday Heroes 1)
He is leaning against the headboard of my bed, and I’m resting my head on his chest. I’m comfortable and more peaceful than I have been in days . . . and I know it’s because of him.
“Do you always take your suspects back to their place after you frisk them?” I murmur.
“No, but it sounds like you skydivers do after a jump.” He chuckles, its vibration rumbling against my chest.
“Adrenaline has a way of doing that to you—making you need that extra release.”
“Is this an occupational hazard I should be worried about?”
“No. God no.” I pause and then add, “But I won’t deny that all of my staff have had their fun at one time or another.”
“And that’s why Leo was laughing.”
“Ha. At least we left plain sight,” I say with a laugh as I think about Leo and that hot little number he all but mounted against the side of the Blue Skies shed after a particularly thrilling jump.
“I don’t think I want to know.”
“No, you don’t.” I can still hear the rest of the jumpers hooting and hollering for him to get a room, but the sweet, little thing he was with was so excited to have a catch like Leo, she had no shame.
We sit in silence for a bit, his fingers trailing up and down the line of my spine, moving the towel, which is still damp from our shower, down a bit more with each subsequent trace of his finger. I think of the day. Of how I came back determined to pick up and “go gypsy” to escape the feelings and the memories I can’t seem to stop. Oh how quickly that changed when he put his trust in me. He gave me his biggest fear and didn’t walk away like I wanted to do to him.
Shouldn’t I be able to face my biggest fear then, too?
“Thank you for getting me down safely,” he murmurs as if he’s reading my thoughts.
“Thank you for trusting me to do so.”
“You needed a leap of faith, Em. You needed someone to prove to you that they trust you, so in turn, you should trust yourself.”
“There are so many things you don’t understand . . . things I wish I could . . .” My fingers draw absently on his chest over his heart.
“No. It’s okay I don’t need to know.”
“I’m just not ready to explain—”
&nbs
p; “You don’t need to. I’ve done enough damage. I pushed you when I didn’t realize I was. I guess I just want you to understand that I’m here for you. That I care about you. That whatever it is you need from me, I’ll try to give you, so long as you tell me. I can’t read your mind.”
I draw in a long, deep breath as if I’m trying to digest and believe what he is saying to me. As if I’m willing myself to whole-heartedly trust him.
“Trust is hard for me,” I whisper, feeling as if I just peeled back my soul and opened it to him. In reality, my revelation is nothing new but it’s still huge for me to admit.
“Understandably.”
Another deep breath. Another confession that needs to be expressed but that is totally unfounded. “I blamed you for the longest time you know.”
“Blamed me for what?” he asks, trying to pinpoint what of the many things I could pin on him.
“My lack of trust.” His fingers still for just a beat before they move to my chin and tilt my face so I’m forced to look at him. His eyes question me, but his lips refrain from verbalizing. “It was so much easier to blame you for everything than to blame the man who was supposed to love me.”
He nods ever so slightly; the compassion in his eyes is truly overwhelming. “I can’t tell you I understand, Em, because I haven’t walked a day in your shoes, but I can tell you that I respect what you are saying. That I hear you. That I’ll prove to you that you can trust me.”
I feel so stupid, needing to hear him say those words, but now that he has, I feel as if a weight has been lifted off my chest. “Where do we go from here?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean . . .” I pause and try to figure out how to put what I want to say into words. “Never mind.”
